The Ghost of Another Choice
by Meshou
Summary: Rey draws on the powers of the Dark instead of the Light to fight Kylo Ren in the snowy forest on the Starkiller. Her choice changes the fate of the Galaxy. - A/U, Reylo, novella-length -Also posted on Tumblr and AO3. Still me, darlings. - The author will not shy away from a frank depiction of adult themes, including violence, sex, and abuse.
1. Part 1

"You need a teacher. I can show you the ways of the Force!"

She could feel her pulse in her temples, between the whooshes of her heartbeat their breathing— hers and Kylo Ren's. If she listened very closely, she might swear she heard his pulse as well.

Everything else was eerily silent. The universe had narrowed to the lightsaber in her hand and the face of the man who killed her hero, and the screaming, aching fatigue of every battered muscle in her body. She leaned in to the hilt, her face contorted in pain.

"Why?" she said.

Kylo Ren's face twisted with the effort of fending off her attack, his eyes locked with hers. He leaned into his blade with all his weight and strength, and her light frame was no match. She felt snow creep up the back of her leg as she slid backward. Her back knee began to buckle.

"NO!"

She felt a powerful red energy crackle from the base of her spine and press forward through her, strengthening her attack with the power of the Dark Side. Kylo Ren's eyes widened, and he took a step back to absorb the strength of her redoubled effort.

It was an opening. She reared back and kicked him in the belly, as hard as she could. He screamed as she hit him in his gut wound. Blood spattered up Rey's leg as he fell backward in the snow. The faint sound of his pulse went silent, and knew instantly he had passed out. She reached out her hand and pulled his lightsaber to her. It came to her without resistance.

She approached him slowly, both blue and red lightsabers reflecting off the snow, both pointed toward his heart. As he came to, he clutched his side and dug his heels into the snow, kicking, pushing himself away from her. He was hurt, and badly. He could die, she realized. A wave of nausea passed over her as his pain screamed through the Force.

"Answer me!" She bared her teeth at him.

"I— I can teach you—"

"ANSWER ME." She circled around to approach him from his side, like a predator looking for the final place to strike. He rolled on his side toward her and clutched his stomach. Blood darkened the snow beneath him.

"We all have to die, Rey. All living things. You and I, and even my worm of a father were destined to die for— for a purpose."

She jerked his own lightsaber up and pointed it so close to his face its light reflected off his skin and onto the snow. He drew his head back away from its heat.

"Don't you dare insult him to me! I could kill you. I could leave you to die!" she said.

"Killing me will set you farther on your path, but you cannot walk it alone. Not even you can be alone through this. You don't have to be anymore."

She drew her head back as if recoiling from a slap. He looked up at her and nodded. His tongue pressed against his bottom lip. He'd cut it on his teeth when he fell, and blood and spit flowed across his lips and down his chin in a thick, obscene sheet.

"You know." he said. "You know. You feel it. If you go to Skywalker with this anger, if you kill me now, he will refuse to help you the way he refused me. He can't help you with your rage. I can teach you to conquer this feeling and anything else you desire. I can walk with you for a time. If you want to conquer me now, then kill me and my Master will help you. You will not be alone."

By the dim light of the dying star, she searched his face and found something like compassion.

Just then, the world beneath them began to move and shudder. Behind her she heard a sickening crack, and by impulse she turned to see the ground open like the mouth of a terrible creature. At almost the same moment, she felt her arm pulled sharply. She heard her shoulder pop out of its socket a fraction of a second before she felt it. Luke's lightsaber flew into Kylo Ren's outstretched hand as she screamed and fell to one knee. Her fingertips had been seared. She nearly dropped the other saber as she recovered herself.

He slowly rolled onto his knees and pulled himself back into a fighting stance, holding Luke's blade.

"I won't tell you to be grateful." he said. "If I'd taken mine back, it would have taken your hand off."

Rey looked over her shoulder at the widening gap and knew that she needed to run and jump then, before it was too late.

Without Luke's sword.

She looked back at Ren's bloody face. She felt the ground move again, and waited for the quake to end so her voice would not be drowned out by its din. She waited, also, because she was afraid she would run if she had the choice. She looked behind her once more, and thought, for a moment, she could see her own back as the ghost of another choice ran from that place.

It was too late; the crack had widened too far to make the jump.

"I just," she said as tears welled up in her eyes as exhaustion caught up with her, "I just want to know why this had to happen."

He nodded. "I'll teach you. I promise. But now, we have to run."

She took a breath, then pressed her thumb over the saber switch. The red blade flickered and dimmed. Kylo Ren's eyes flicked between his blade in her hands and her eyes before also switching off Luke's blade. They watched one another warily as they each stowed their hilts. They faced one another, palms visible and empty.

"How can I trust you?" she said.

"Don't." he said. His voice cracked. She knew absolutely he was too injured to escape by himself, and from the expression on his face he knew it as well. He held out his hand to her.

She took it.


	2. Part 2

He held out his hand to her.

She took it.

He pulled her in, with a strength that seemed impossible given his injury, and grabbed her injured arm. She felt him using the Force to hold himself up like a puppet. She yelped in pain.

"I can't use all of my strength just to stand. You're going to need to use that arm."

She pulled back and immediately regretted it as her vision whited out with pain.

"Stop moving or I'll break it." He suddenly jerked her arm upward. She screamed as the joint popped back into place. He ran his upper lip over his teeth, dissatisfied.

"It still can't hold weight." He said. She nodded. There was a tear in the muscle above her chest that burned every time she breathed in, and her entire back on her right side was impossibly sore. It'd just tear more if she used it, and they would be in the same position. He tilted his head back and his eyelashes fluttered. He mumbled some kind complex arithmetic to himself before rolling his head back around to face her. He took one of his gloves off between his teeth.

"You won't like this, but pay attention. I won't it to you show you again. I don't do Jedi parlor tricks."

His gloved hand snaked around her back, and his massive bare hand slid under her tunic, above her breast. She froze, too scared too move. His breathing slowed, and his face relaxed.

She felt a warm euphoria pass over her, and the pain in her shoulder, arm and singed fingertips began to subside—

— and all too quickly, he withdrew. When she opened her eyes, he nearly had his glove on again. She moved her shoulder, and winced. It was bearable, but not good. She inspected her fingers. Two ropy scars had begun to knit themselves over her burned fingertips, but had not finished. Little flecks of burned flesh peeked out.

"It's still injured."

"I am aware. We need to go."

"Heal yourself first."

"I would have done that if it were an option!"

The ground beneath them began to quake once more. She shook his hands off of her arms, and angrily threw his arm around her shoulder, and her arm around his waist and began to walk as quickly as she could. His weight fell on her like a puppet with its strings cut as they trudged back toward the entrance of the base she'd just escaped. She took a few slow, painful steps.

"You saw me carry myself with the Force, I know you know how," he said. She was too busy concentrating to reply. "Why would a woman with your talents rely solely on her flesh? Channel your pain."

She stopped to pull him up further. He made himself limp, his dead weight grinding down into her. It was unnecessarily petty. He could still stand if he chose to. He was intentionally making their survival— his own survival— more difficult for her.

She was furious.

As she inhaled, he became lighter. His back unbowed as his own weight was taken off of his shoulders and abdomen.

"Good," he said. "We can run like this." He ran his hand across her back and down her arm. He pressed his arm into hers, his fingers interleaved with hers. "When we're in sight of the hangar, act like my prisoner and do as I say, or we will waste too much time."

She nodded, and they ran through the forest to a clearing. He looked down at her, and she threw his arm around her neck, and used her hands to hang from him and pull his arm away from her throat, kicking at the air in mock frenzy.

"Let me GO, murderer!" she screamed, every obscenity she knew at him while simultaneously holding up the bones of his back and shoulders with the power of her will. He dragged her across the snow toward a fighter ship and a small group of Storm Trooper pilots running in all directions, preparing the fighters on the pad for launch. They spotted Kylo Ren, and several stood at attention as he approached, Rey dragged in front of him and covering his wound from sight.

"One of you, prepare me a shuttle. The rest, evacuate."

"General Hux has already given the evacuate order, Sir," one said.

"Now I've given it. Is the C-Wing still in dock? I need to take the girl to Master Snoke." She dropped him a short distance and pounded her head against his chest, then quickly lifted him again.

"Don't you _dare!_ " She screamed.

He played her threat off as if he were continuing to easily fight off her struggling. He barely broke his stride.

"Aye, sir, just inside. Will you need an escort onboard?"

"I have this well in hand. Bind her arms and legs for me."

"Sir." Two of the Storm Troopers offered Kylo Ren the electronic metal cuffs off of their belt. He refused them and indicated with a motion he wanted them to do it.. She struggled as they cuffed her ankles and wrists together, and Kylo Ren dragged her up the gangplank of the C-Wing using her own strength.

C-Wings were old, from the days of the Galactic Civil War, and were from the manufacturer favored by the Rebellion and now the Resistance. At first glance, in a busy battle, a Resistance Pilot would overlook the vessel. It would give them just enough time to jump to hyperspace. It was not unheard of in the days of the Empire for high-ranking civilian Imperials to use the trick in their escape from a losing battle.

As he closed the hatch behind him, Ren dropped him, and they both fell. Her bound hands scrabbled at the cuffs at her legs while he crawled toward the cockpit.

"Uncuff me!"

"They won't matter if we're dead."

"I can fly this thing!"

"You don't know where we're going."

"Where are we going?"

He pulled himself up on the seat and started lining up orders for the computer. She rolled over onto her elbows and dragged herself over. The ground began to quake again. They felt a massive energy roiling beneath them. The containment around the reactor had begun to crack and vent through the grates in the hangar, filling it with steam. Only a thin layer of metal stood between them and lethal radiation.

"Forget takeoff, jump no—" she yelled, but he'd already punched the button. The stars in front of their window appeared, and then smeared before them. The ship rattled. Kylo Ren sneered to hide his pain as his seat rattled.

"This was some very rough math." he said.

"How long until we're out?"

He glanced down at the timer.

"Now."

— And they were out. She rolled into the back of his chair from the jolt.

"Uncuff me!"

He turned the chair around to face her, "I am not—"

"We're about to hit that debris field and I'm a better pilot!"

He looked back over his shoulder as dozens of fist-size chunks of ice and rock smashed into their cruiser. Ren threw himself to the ground with a sickening thud, and his wound opened back up from a seep to a steady flow. He uncuffed her legs first, and she stood and dove for the controls and yanked them just in time to avoid a large meteor hitting the shield. Instead the ship shuddered and several console alarms blared as it pierced the coolant tank of one engine and took out the communications and navigation array.

She frantically looked out the window and at the final readout of the broken navigation system. The stellar navigation was out, but the magnetic one, which would allow her to see where she was going to land on the planet, was mercifully intact. They were passing through the ring of a habitable, but currently uninhabited, planet.

"I'm going to need to land!"

"Land, then!"

"I need my hands!"

She held her wrists down to him, and he raised his arm weakly to undo them. She turned her back on him.

"You don't get to die while I land this."

She looked at their landing coordinates again. They had the vice of being exactly where Ren wanted them to be. But on a habitable planet, a blind landing could easily put them into an ocean, or the side of a mountain, or maroon them in an area without any supplies. His choice was their best bet.

"Hold on!" They broke through the atmosphere with a crack, fire licking the edges of their window. She said a prayer under her breath for the engine to stay on long enough to get them to the landing site.

They passed over a massive lake, dotted with rocky islands. Most of the Islands were wooded. They skimmed across the top of the lake, no more than two men's heights above its surface. Rey saw their destination indicated on the coordinates: a finger of land bridging one small island to a larger, central one. She switched to manual and eased down on the controls to guide them down, and they landed with a final shudder. She immediately shut off the engines to try to preserve the cracked one from further damage.

She turned and fell to her knees besides Ren. She grasped at his chest to see if he was still breathing. He was, but barely. She thought of spending her life in another remnant of the Galactic Civil War in a vast, empty waste, this time well and truly without another soul on the entire planet.

"You don't get to die now, either. You promised me."

She grasped at the bottom of his tunic, and found his garment was of one piece. She found the tear in the cloth near where he'd been pierced, and she tore it open further, exposing his torso and the deep burned gouge he'd torn open during their fight when he'd pounded on it, and she opened further when she kicked it.

She plunged her hands on and into the wound. He didn't even shudder.

"What did he do, Rey, what is it he did?" she muttered. "He talked to himself, then what did he do? What did it feel like? He…"

He had slowed his breathing, and relaxed. Her mind cleared as she followed his lead. She pushed out everything— her pain, frustration, and hatred, her anger at herself for abandoning her friends and the bitter feeling she might never see them again, or that worse, she might and how they'd look at her. She made that quiet, warm feeling larger. She pushed it out through her hands.

For the first time in hours, years, she was not in pain. Her injuries, her isolation, Han's death, these existed. They were facts. The truth was her old companion, come back to take her home.

No, to make her a home, wherever she was.

She pulled her fingers out of his wound slowly, as it closed. He began to breathe more steadily and deeply. She looked up at his face to see if he was awake.

The hormones which grant humans merciful relief in their final minutes before death flooded through his renewed body. His lips were parted and his eyes hooded in an ecstasy of drugged pleasure. He laughed like a madman and arched his back.

"That's enough," he panted, and grabbed her hands in his to pull them away from his body. She fell forward, inches from his face. He looked from her eyes, down to her lips, and, still laughing, pulled her to him, kissing her.

He had not been able to wipe the blood from his mouth after it had healed, and it was foul. He softly licked the seam where her lips met. He was shaking.

Her heart pounded. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She pulled her hands out of his pulled her knees up onto his abdomen, and smacked him on the chest, hard. He rolled onto his side, and her off of him, laughing. She scrambled away from him and wiped his blood from her mouth.

"That would have hurt _if I were injured_." He looked down at his abdomen and gingerly sat up, testing the muscles in his stomach and back. He had a fresh scar where his wound was. He touched his lip, and it had healed as well.

"You must have really enjoyed that. I think you healed some old injures, too."

"You don't get to touch me!"

"You had your hands _inside of my body_ a moment ago."

"That is disgusting!"

He leaned in and snarled at her, "I didn't ask you to save my life. I have ordered you to do everything I've wanted, and I didn't once tell you to save my life. Keep that in mind next time you do that, if it disgusts you. It's very _suggestive_ to a delirious man."

"You don't get to lecture me or— or _punish me_ for _saving your life_. You're going to tell me what I want to know before that ever, ever happens again."

"You are injured, on _my_ planet, in _my_ ship, _my_ Padawan, and you are very, very fortunate we are allies on this because you are in no position to make any demands of me. You will get what you want because _I_ want it, and you will obey me to get it."

Each word rang out and shook something in her core, like a bell ringing out sympathetically when its note is played. He didn't just believe it, it was true. Terrifyingly, horribly true. She turned away from him to compose herself. Her rage would only take her farther from that brief peace she'd felt. She thumbed moisture away from her nose and caught her breath.

"So, what? What do we do now?" She demanded.

"You will call me Master, and we start your training."


	3. Part 3

"So, what? What do we do now?" She demanded.

"You will call me Master, and we start your training."

She rocked her head and body, as she absorbed his decree. The thought offended her. She hoped he would mistake her body language for assent and she could avoid the word until she could think of an excuse. No sale. His gaze bored into her. He would accept only compliance.

"I-i-if I accept you as my- If i accept your training, you will tell me why you killed Han?"

He rolled his eyes. "That's not what you asked me," he said. "You asked me why this had to happen."

"That's the same thing."

His face softened, suddenly, to pity. He kneeled, facing her. "This is why you need training. One question is the story of the galaxy from its birth, every soul, every unseen sacrifice and subtle consequence. Everything worth knowing. Every passion that has been and will be and the final, unmourned death of every mother's child when this all ends in entropy. The other is just a story of a man who died, and his son who will die. The first is meaning. The second is just a series of events in the tiniest fraction of a moment."

Her lips parted. "Wh-why are you telling me this?"

He reached for her hands, and she let him entwine his fingers in hers. He pressed their hands into the muscles above his knees, and leaned so close she felt his breath on her face. "You are capable of experiencing and understanding everything I have, and more. You would surpass me, in time. There are so few of us now, who can share this. It is a terrible thing to perceive the size of the Universe and your place in it, and to know it by yourself without knowing its _meaning_."

His eyes were focused past her. Whatever he saw moved him.

"We were betrayed, Rey. We inherited the ability to perceive the Darkess, but denied the traditions which would let us thrive in it. I have devoted my life to resurrecting the old ways so people like us," he squeezed her hands "who can touch and choose to become One with the very Force which set the Universe in motion, don't die alone like animals, ignorant we are infinite, afraid of the Dark. I could conquer the entire galaxy, but it's for nothing if I abandon you. Or anyone like you."

"Anyone like us?" she whispered.

He looked away and inclined his head toward her in grudging assent.

She felt the same yearning she'd felt as a child, creating dolls of heroes and imagining hers would come, and they would skate across the stars and become endless. It was a need and pain as marrow-deep as hunger, and she had believed until that moment there was no food which could sate it.

He let her hands go and brushed them off of him, and stood.

"We have to go," he said.

"Why?"

He motioned toward the window. "It's time."

"I'm… tired. We should rest and stay with the ship in case we're found."

"It's not safe here," he said.

She was too tired to argue. He would know, he chose the spot. He let her sit on the floor, leaned against the console, while he gathered rations and other supplies from the store room. When he was done, he threw a small bag onto the floor beside her.

"On your feet. We need to leave."

She complied. He lowered the hatch and they peered out into the sunlight, and she surveyed the surroundings.

The ragged shoreline of the islands on either side of the land bridge they'd landed on was rocky. Trees and shrubby grasses had found purchase between cracks.

He glanced quickly, as if to orient himself, and strode down the incline. Rey followed, and at the bottom was surprised to find her boots submerged to the top of her feet in water.

"Get off, I need to close it." he said.

"Wasn't this dry when we landed?"

"The tide was out. It'll be coming back in soon."

"That might damage the ship!"

"Does that matter? I thought it was wrecked."

She jogged over to the cracked engine to assess the full damage. He ambled after her.

"Can it be fixed?" he asked.

A smile slowly spread over her face, blooming into a full grin. "Yes. The navigation's shot, but I could fix the engine with just the standard welder that comes in the repair kit. We could drain some of the extra coolant from the other three engines and get this one going. If I work through the night, we'd be able to make it around this star system. Maybe the next closest one, too, if it's nearby. We might not be completely stranded." She beamed and turned toward him.

"How fortunate," he said. She heard the crack of Luke's lightsaber as he flicked it on, and she instinctively grasped for Kylo's saber, still tucked in her belt, while she circled out of his reach.

But she was not the target. Kylo Ren thrust his lightsaber straight into the engine before she'd had time to deploy the saber in her hands. He smashed them two more times, beating them as if he were holding a massive club, and the metal on the wing and engine screeched and boiled where the saber cut through. Rey stood in fighting stance, saber ready, waiting for him to strike at her. Instead, his assault on the C-Wing ended abruptly, and he flicked the weapon off.

"How long will it take now?" He seemed merely genially interested.

Her lip trembled in frustration. "I don't know. More than two weeks."

"Need any tools which we don't have? Will fresh water damage it beyond repair?"

She considered lying to him, but did not. "No. Both no."

"I hope you'll let me assist you so I can learn to do such extensive repairs. It should be fascinating. It will have to wait for tomorrow. We've got to make camp."

"We're not going to your Master?"

He laughed. "He's not on this backwater. When I tell him I don't have the map, he'll want me to return to complete my training. If I obtain it, my training will be considered complete with a few formalities left."

She tensed, recalling his previous interrogation.

"Consider the matter dropped unless you choose to give me the map. But that's a tertiary consideration."

"Should you be training me like this if you haven't completed your training?"

"No. But my Master has not forbidden it, and he won't have the opportunity to while we are stranded with a hopelessly broken ship and no communications."

Her eyes darted between him and the battered C-Wing.

"Are- are you _hiding_ me fr-"

"I am sure I have no idea _what_ you are implying. Think carefully before you accuse me of treason. Move out."

They were in the middle of two islands, and the water was rising quickly enough to be noticeable. He considered both, mumbling under his breath, before deciding on the smaller one.

—

The planet's sun had begun to set by the time they made it half-way up a rocky hill. Rey looked back at the C-Wing. The very top of it peeked out from the still water from the lake. They'd filled their canteens and hurriedly rinsed their hands and faces of one another's blood. The air was cool but musty with the smell of mossy spores. There were a few flies. One landed on Rey, and she swatted it when it bit her.

"Salt flies" said Kylo Ren. "They're not looking for blood, they just probe everything they land on."

"Well at least it had good intentions," she bit back. There weren't a lot of them, thankfully. They were fat and slow, and easy to brush off.

The opposite side of the island had level patch of rock bookended by the shoreline and a steep but short cliff, perhaps three men high. Kylo Ren glanced over at Rey, and they silently agreed it was a good place to camp and unshouldered their bags.

Ren shook, unscrewed, and placed a device called a camp stove on the ground, closer to the cliff than the shore. It unfurled itself into a squat metal cylinder the size of a medium campfire. The center cooking surface glowed faintly with an electric light. It would collapse when it ran out of power. It was not as hot as a fire. The edges of the stove were cool enough to lean against, but the very center was hot enough to boil a pot of water on.

That would stay hot for three days. They had four camp stoves for twelve days of heat. They'd have to collect wood to burn if they were not gone by then.

"We should camp closer to the ship tomorrow."

"You're injured," he said. "You're going to take a day or two and rest, and this is the best spot to do it. I must admit, despite your enthusiasm," he rolled the word around in his mouth "when you healed me, I've lost a lot of blood and it's not all restored. I could use the time myself."

"That is a lot of time to plan to be marooned without working toward getting out of here."

"I'm not marooned. I've lived here."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. He continued, "This archipelago doesn't have any natural predators. All the animals are non-sentient and edible. But very friendly, which is why they're a lot more scarce than they were before I spent a few years here."

He leaned close, conspiratorially, as if the trees could hear him. "The plants are mostly poisonous, though. Including some of the wood you'd burn if you don't treat it right. If you know the place like I do, it's easy to survive. And I know how to get out of here if I have to. You're marooned. It'll be very uncomfortable to be completely dependent on me for your survival. If I were you, I'd watch me very carefully."

"Y-you could just heal me now so I can get right to repairing ship in the morning."

He scoffed. "We are not Jedi. We are friends with our discomfort. We keep it close. We don't allow it to destroy us, but when it is with us, we are hospitable. We're thankful for our pain, because without it we wouldn't know what destroys us. We're thankful for our hunger because we'd never know what fills us." He sat and pulled two rations out of his bag and threw one to her. He rehydrated his own from his canteen, which he'd drawn straight from the lake.

"Oh, and the pathogens here didn't evolve to attack humans. So you just have to come to me for food once the rations are gone and I probably won't let you starve to death," he said earnestly.

His manners while eating weren't any more refined than hers. He tore through his ration quickly and refilled his canteen twice drinking from it. He stood and returned to fill it a third time with his bag in hand, and once he'd done it he removed his belt and placed the lightsaber in the bag. He pulled the knit robe off of him, and the one-piece layer beneath it. He was stripped to his last layer, a thin undyed garment that covered him from his knees to his shoulders, but left his legs and arms exposed. The entire right side of it was stained and caked with dark, clotted blood. He, sighed, resigned, and waded into the water to his waist while unbuttoning the offensively soiled garment.

"HEY." shouted Rey.

"You are welcome to join me. My blood doesn't smell any sweeter rotting on your skin." he bent and scrubbed his underwear in the water with his fingernails.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT."

"Are we going to bicker over whether and where I get to bathe, now? I haven't slept in two days." He threw his undergarment onto the shore and ducked under the water to wet his hair.

"If you don't want to fight, why do you have to be so offensive about everything?"

"Because you have expectations which lend themselves to easy violation."

"Like not murdering anyone, that expectation?"

"Most of yours are a little fussier than that, but all of them are matters out of your control. It is foolish that you try anyway," he waded out of the water.

His wet hair no longer hid his ears, which stuck out. His face was dominated by a prominent and long nose, and a wide, sensitive mouth. The angles of his face and odd proportions of his long limbs, large hands and feet, and broad shoulders were assembled with an ineffable wrongness. Rather than making him ugly, it gave him a physicality which demanded attention with every new movement. Even watching him stoop to pick something up— a survival blanket— was like watching him invent and master the act in that moment. His look was distinct to himself, and despite herself, Rey found it fascinating to watch him.

She saw his backside and the shadow of his private area before he wrapped the blanket around himself. She jerked her head upwards to avert her eyes. He pretended not to notice.

"Clean your clothes and yourself before you sleep," he said, "That's an order. There aren't any pathogens evolved for us here, but we brought our own with us. Hygiene is still imperative to your survival."

"You've shown off," she motioned in the general direction of his genitals and backside, "and now it's my turn?"

He seemed genuinely offended. "I am a commander of soldiers from an Order of knights, and I am training another soldier how to survive here _by_ _example_ because she will not obey even _reasonable_ commands. I'm not inventing excuses to see that soldier's _tits_. Don't stare at me when I bathe if the sight offends you. I'm going to bed."

He began assembling his cot. She stamped away and grabbed her bag, fishing out her blanket as she approached the shore. She wrapped herself in it and undressed under it, then wrapped herself in her dirty garments and dropped the blanket by the shore. She waded in far enough to cover her breasts, and scrubbed her tunic, pants, and undergarment between her hands. Nothing could ever fully lift the dark stain of blood off off her pale tunic, but they came reasonably clean.

She watched him while he finished assembling his bed, and then started on a second one across the stove from him. He didn't so much as glance at her. She searched the Force for signs of surveillance, and found nothing.

It was well and truly night-time, and still as bright as early twilight. The sky was illuminated by the rings they had crashed through and a close moon. Here and there, once every minute or two, a shooting star burned out in the atmosphere. Only the brightest stars were visible. Even a more competent navigator than she would not have been able to tell where they were in the galaxy from the visible features of the night sky.

She laid out her clothes to dry, carefully staying covered as much as she could, but it still left her only the blanket. She decided to wear her wet undergarment rather than rely on her blanket to preserve her modesty in her sleep. It was still somewhat transparent while damp, so she wrapped her blanket around her.

He glanced over at her as she approached the stove and their cots. He was seated on his own cot, with his blanket around his waist, stretching his shoulders and finishing his canteen before he laid down on a hard cot.

"I'm sorry I insulted your professionalism," she said, "It was not warranted."

He scoffed. "Why would you apologize?"

"I was wrong. I'm acknowledging it. I misjudged you because I hate you. I was wrong."

"Is being unfair to your enemies a problem?"

"My clouded judgement only harms me. My… discomfort with you should be my friend, but I shouldn't let it make me weak. "

His face softened. "That's good. Very good. Your initiative to apply your lessons will make you an easy Padawan."

She had learned a great deal from him, she realized, some of which he'd intended to teach her. She'd heard _of_ the Force from Maz, but she'd practiced and understood its use only from his example. When _had_ his instruction started, she wondered. After they'd landed here? During their escape from the Starkiller? Perhaps even her interrogation?

She pursed her lips and bowed slightly. Whatever else he was, he was her teacher, and deserved some respect for that.

"Good night, Master."

He concealed his shock poorly and hurriedly returned the bow. She turned to go to her cot.

"I'm—" he called after her, "I _am_ sorry Han Solo is dead." His voice betrayed genuine anguish, and the words hung there for a moment. He added, hurriedly, "Only because it hurts you. I don't get anything from hurting you."

She turned back toward him. "You don't think you were wrong to kill him?"

"No." He looked down at his hands. "I also don't hate you, which I _am_ sorry for," he said, gently.

She ran her hand over her face and neck and turned back around. "I am going to bed now. Don't peek at my… 'tits' in my sleep."

He was relieved for the change of topic even as he sneered at the one she chose. "Don't stare at my backside when I'm awake and you have a deal."

She waved him off behind her back lazily, the way she would dismiss a nagging salt fly, lay down, and pulled the blanket over her head.


	4. Part 4

Rey woke up to an odd scraping noise next to her head. She turned peeled her eyes open. Kylo Ren was sitting next to her cot. He was dressed except for his belt, which he had across his knee. He was using the unfinished leather on the inside to polish the rust off of a very small hand-axe.

She looked up at the sky. She had slept past morning and afternoon to early evening, and the ship was surely submerged.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I beg your pardon?" He stopped his work to look at her.

"Why didn't you wake me? It's late."

"I thought it was intentional. It was a wise decision, given your injuries, to rest rather than tinker with trash."

"That sounds more like you than me," she said. He smirked.

She propped herself up on her elbow. "Was that on the C-Wing?"

"Do you want to know if we kept a tiny rusted axe in a New Order ship?" He held it up for her inspection. His large hands make it look ridiculous. He'd nearly restored its head to its original luster.

"Then where?"

He glanced over at her. "There's one with your name on it on the other island. This one's mine."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Well, I'm glad you didn't trouble yourself on my account."

"Training starts tomorrow. Get it then, if you want."

"I'd rather repair the ship. Could we at least set aside some time for that?"

"That will be part of it. A good mentor incorporates his student's boring eccentricities into training. You have chores you must complete before you work on the ship."

"What if I'm not done with them before the tide rises?"

"Then it'll be underwater, which would be inconvenient. Just go back to bed."

He pulled a whetstone from his pack. It, like the axe, was most assuredly not on the C-Wing.

"I thought this place was uninhabited?"

"It is."

She had the feeling he would not elaborate, and didn't want to argue. She stretched her legs and fed herself before settling back down to sleep again.

"If you're up before me, could you wake me up?"

"No." He said. He handed her his canteen.

"What would you like me to do with this?"

"Drink two or three before you go to bed. You'll get up."

"…Ugh."

He seemed satisfied with the edge of the axe, finally. They ate rations for dinner, and went to bed not long after.

—

In the morning, Kylo Ren took her on a walk through the woods. He pointed out a particular plant with two leaves pushing up through the ground. He used the axe as a hoe and dug out a large root vegetable.

"If you cut these in quarters and plant them, they'll grow back. They're a good staple."

"We won't be here long enough to worry about that, right?"

He didn't answer. They filled one of the bags with them. He had them cut off two sides and re-bury them.

He taught her how to cut wood for a fire by climbing up a tree and cutting off branches no thicker than two finger widths. He said they needed to dry for a week, and then they'd burn without producing toxic smoke. He had them get quite a bit to lay out.

They cut reeds from the lake. He showed her how to peel the bark off and braid it for rope with the edge of the axe, then use the rope to lash the peeled reeds together into panels that could be used to make a structure. Ren showed her how they'd complete a lean-to using the cliff side as a part of the structure. By that time it was approaching evening. They again hadn't had time to explore beyond the little island. Ren filled a pot he'd gotten from the C-Wing with the root vegetables, filled the pot with water, and placed it on the camp stove.

"This planet is scarce in salt. That's why there are relatively few large fauna here. It's important to supplement when you don't have food from offworld, or you will die."

He pulled out a handful of salt flies he had apparently been collecting, crushed them between his palms, and threw them in the pot.

"Where did you learn all this?"

"It was part of my training. I thought you'd be squeamish," he said, disappointed.

"I've eaten worse when I didn't earn my portions for a few days. You trained like this as a Knight of Ren?"

"No. A Jedi. Our Master had been trained in the wilderness and incorporated it into the new Order's tradition."

"You were a Jedi?"

"I left before my training was complete."

She thought. He had very specific knowledge of the planet.

"Wait, you trained _here_?"

"Yes."

"Where is everyone?" What happened?"

"Gone. Luke Skywalker wanted to ensure the preservation of the Jedi before he passed away, and believed he needed to train as many Jedi as he could in order to ensure the survival of the Order. He also spent quite a bit of time away, seeking out records of the old ways which hadn't been destroyed in the great purge at the dawn of the Empire. In his weakness and pride, he split too far from tradition. He delegated responsibilities he should not have. Master Snoke used his absence and weakness to shepherd a Padawan to the Dark Side. This was discovered, and it sowed confusion and suspicion within the Jedi Order, which Snoke used to crush them. Skywalker hid, the last Jedi with no apprentices to succeed him. I became Apprentice to Master Snoke."

"And now Snoke's looking for him to finish it?"

He nodded. "When he killed my grandfather and his Master, he snuffed out thousands of years of tradition and wisdom. As long as he exists, he's a threat. There are other orders which favor the Dark Side, but none so powerful as the Sith. The Sith followed the Rule of Two: a Master to hold Power, and an Apprentice to covet it. The practice of the ways of the Force is all-encompassing, it is not merely these showy tricks."

He held his fingers out toward the shoreline, and one of the little waves stopped, as if frozen in time, or turned to glass. The next washed over it and receded. He let it go, and it was subsumed into the next wave.

He continued, "The most difficult part is developing your person and spirit as an appropriate vessel for it. The Rule of Two was a sacrament. It is a sacred mystery, a practice that binds them directly to the fate of the Universe. The Empire did not conquer to hold the Galaxy, a mere possession, but to bring the Emperor to an ecstatic understanding of the nature of power, and his Apprentice to the understanding of needing it. Like Skywalker, they did not heed the importance of their own passed-down knowledge, and ensured their own destruction."

"What didn't they do?"

"I will tell you that another time. I will say that I intend for us to remedy it, once this portion of your training is complete."

"When will that be?"

"Ah, that's right. I didn't mention. Whenever you manage to get off the planet, your first steps will be complete. You will be my Apprentice, but no longer my Padawan."

"I could have started on that today!"

"You wouldn't have gotten very far without knowing how to make shelter or food. Anyway, whatever resource you choose to escape is fair game. Power is power, and the exercise of it is the deepest practice of the Dark Side. I do suggest you take advantage of this time to learn a few tricks, however. They are useful, sometimes."

Kylo Ren mashed the boiled vegetables with a metal spoon, then poured two ladle-fulls in their dishes. It was gritty and pale. Rey ate enthusiastically, and Kylo Ren less so.

"I always hated this," Ren said, "but it's what's here. The texture is awful."

"It's edible, and there's enough of it," said Rey.

"You have a point."

"Plus I've never had a man cook for me. It's interesting," she said, in mock-flirtation.

He made a face.

"What?" she said.

"I'm eating my least favorite food in the Universe, basically glue, with my student, who hates me; neither of us has seen soap for four days. It's a little repulsive to hear you sigh like a doe-eyed virgin about what a man has never done for her before."

She laughed at him. "I am _certain_ that is not how I sounded. And where did you get virgin?"

He set his spoon on his plate. "If you've had a few sticky fingered encounters with the boys on Jakku, don't want to hear about it."

"No, this is funny. You have a rich inner life, and I am fascinated. You've lived to, what, twenty-five as a monk? No wonder."

"I am thirty."

She frowned. "Oh."

"Oh, is that disappointing? Should I be flattered? Not age-appropriate for a nineteen year old?" he said.

"I just meant that you have the devastating looks of a man five-sixths your age," she rolled her eyes. "And I'm twenty, not nineteen."

"No, you're nineteen."

"How would you know?"

"Nineteen is an annoying age."

"Thirty has no room to talk."

He snatched her plate from her to wash it and was still seething when he returned, which she enjoyed. The sun had set, and it was chilly, so the slight warmth from the edge of the stove was pleasant. He sat next to her, and they looked up at the sky and watched the moon and rim rise. He pointed at something and she leaned in closer to follow what he was pointing at. The moon had cast a shadow on the normally glowing rings. She saw one shooting star, and then another, as the moon knocked debris from the rings into the atmosphere. They were sitting close enough that he accidentally brushed her hand when he reached for his canteen. She could feel the heat of his body radiate off of him in the chilly night air. Rey smiled.

"It's a pretty place to be stranded at least," she said.

"Yes. We aren't monastics, by the way," he said.

"Huh?" she said, annoyed at being distracted from the spectacle in the sky.

"My order. You and I. Jedi think they've mastered their passions by living outside of them. We do not."

"You think you've mastered them by letting them overrun you?"

"Not at all. We are our desires. Knowing them is mastery. We can't be over-run by ourselves, we only become more authentic."

"I suppose that makes a twisted sense."

He looked down from the sky, and over at her.

"Sex is not the most… universal drive. Hunger is a more basic drive to power. Survival, escape from pain, is universal. But any drive is potentially instructive. When someone rejects the sophistry of the Light, the weak will derisively call their enlightenment a 'seduction.'"

She laughed. "So I just need to finger the hilt of your lightsaber" she bit her lip at him, "and then I can move boulders and conquer galaxies. When do we start?"

She felt a disturbance in the Force, like a heart skipping a beat. It continued, quieter, but steady. It was the same as when she'd fought him on the Starkiller. She'd struck on something. From the look on his face, he knew she'd felt it. He looked as if he'd been caught at something.

"Now? Would you like that?" he said.

"What?" she scoffed.

"You're teasing me because I'm uncomfortable when you do it. You're enjoying it. You think you have my scent, and you're playing with me."

"You've made me uncomfortable."

"You're returning the favor?"

"Absolutely."

"So you've seen you get a reaction, and you enjoy it. What do you think that reaction is? Disgust? Repression? Guilt?" He leaned in close, his breath brushed over the little hairs on her temple. "What part of me do you think you're fingering now?"

She turned her head toward his, teeth bared, and his eyes looked up to meet hers. "I'm sure I have no idea," she said. His pulse grew louder in her ears.

"I could take whatever I want."

She shook with rage. "No. You could not."

"Why not?"

"Because I would kill you first."

He nodded. His breathing was slow and heavy, his heart as loud to her as the waves that lapped against the rocks. The skin on his neck flushed. "Yes. I believe that. I shouldn't risk it. But maybe I've thought about this ever since I had you in restraints, and I felt how your heart beat when I showed you my face. When I woke up with your hands inside of me, helpless and delirious with pleasure, maybe I wanted to make you feel the same way so you wouldn't have that power over me. If I wanted you so badly I'd risk my own destruction to touch you, how would that make you feel?"

"Is this why you've been so strange about… this kind of thing? You, you've chased me, threatened me. You've killed my friends. You knew me before I wanted you to. You've dangled what I want in front of me like a treat for an animal. You have to control _everything_. It drives you crazy I can say 'no' to _anything_ and there's nothing you can do. It makes you mad I know it."

"How do you feel?" he said, lowly.

"Powerful." she held her chin up, her lips pressed in satisfaction.

He blinked, and it was as if he'd taken off a mask. The color in his face and neck returned to normal in a second, and the tension in his face returned to placid indifference. His heartbeat went silent once more to her.

"Good. Remember that feeling," he said.

He stood up and stretched, lazily walking slowly toward his cot.

"W-what," she said, almost laughing in disbelief.

"I'm going to sleep. It's getting late. We'll move boulders and conquer galaxies tomorrow."

"Did you… _lie_ to me?"

"I walked you through an exercise. I tailored it to your desires, not to mine. Meditate on it, and tell me what you've learned. But not tonight."

He would not say anything further.

—

Rey did not meditate on it in the morning. She put the matter of the previous night out of her mind, and Kylo Ren did not press it. Their survival chores went more quickly; she meant to get to the ship that day and plan out her repairs. He showed her a few more plants and how to make them edible. The lower branches of the trees near them had been stripped of the smaller branches already. She climbed up on his back to reach the first branch, and then jumped and hauled herself to a second, hacked away the smaller offshoots and threw them down to him. She stood. There was another large branch out of her reach, and no purchase to climb to it.

"It's just a little bit too far, I'm going to have to come down and try the next tree."

"I thought you were in a hurry?"

"I am."

"Then just jump."

"I can't make it."

"I'm sure you could."

He sucked the inside of his teeth and folded his arms. She looked back up at the branch.

"Oh." She frowned and concentrated… and jumped—

— fell

—and felt a sudden jerk as she stopped, midair just short of landing on the ground. Kylo Ren dropped his outstretched hand, and she fell the rest of the distance. The axe she'd been using had fallen a short distance away, and he pulled it to him.

"I'll let you hit next time," he said.

"Why didn't that work?"

"You tried too hard, for one. For another, where did you draw your power from? Pain? Frustration?"

"I'm— I'm fine today. Nothing hurts. What am I supposed to do if I'm fine?"

"You could hurt yourself," he gestured with the axe, "although long term that's not a good idea."

"What do you do?"

"I have a well of experiences to draw from. As do you. Now, cut the branches."

She held out her hand for the axe. He didn't give it to her.

"Cut the branches," he said.

Rey turned and looked up at the tree. She screwed up her eyes to focus on the branch. In her mind, she conjured up the image of the ship that departed Jakku as a girl, and Unkaar Platt's heavy hand on her shoulder. She thought of the years that junk merchant had held scarcity above her head. He'd known she wouldn't leave even if she could. He just took pleasure in watching her continued desperation. She thought of his face, and drew her hand through the air as if to slap it.

A dozen little branches snapped and fell to the ground, and she and Kylo Ren gathered them.

—

That day, and for the following nine days, they went to the C-Wing. She retrieved a pencil and pad, and an engineering manual. She'd slowly peeled away the outer layers of the casing around the engine, and then re-assembled them hurriedly to protect them from the rising water each evening. At night, they'd meditate, or he'd show her a trick and she'd copy it. They hadn't had time to explore the larger island on the other side of the land bridge. She jotted down some math and finally arrived at her conclusion.

"Damn," she said.

"What?"

"It's better than it looks, but it's a problem. The wing damage is superficial, it'll cause drag within the atmosphere, but the structure will hold. It'll get us through a couple takeoffs and landings. We can ignore it."

She pointed at the engine with her pencil.

"The sub-light engine is another issue. Since we don't have stellar navigation, and I don't even know how I'd begin to repair that, the ion engine is useless. I can use the electrics from it to repair what you broke. The rest is just patching the holes and filling it with coolant from the other engines. Two hours. Easy."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Well, I have a welding kit, but no material to make a patch with, first. But second, assuming I do, once I tear a hole in the hyperdrive to get the electrics out, that hatch won't be water tight, and the barrier between that engine and the computer keeps radiation out, not water. The computer would be toast. We could do it and then take off immediately, but that repair will optimistically take ten hours."

"Low tide lasts seven and a half."

She shook her head "It's not worth the risk."

"Repair what you can and then you'll solve the next problem. What would you do if you were on Jakku?"

She laughed. "On Jakku there's no tide, and I could scavenge for parts."

She sighed in frustration and looked across the horizon. Water lapped at the soles of her boots. She picked up the bundle of lumber she'd lashed together from her morning chores and hauled it over her shoulder to lift it out of the rising tide. Ren did the same, and adjusted his belt. He had Luke's saber tucked into it next to their one axe. She looked at the axe, then across the water to the larger island.

She pointed at the axe and said, "You said there was another one of those? What else is there?"

The corners of his mouth lifted, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

—

They did not have to discuss how she intended to use the next day when they returned to camp: they would explore the large island at day break. As soon as they returned, Kylo started a fire, preserving the last camp stove in case of emergency. They'd fallen into a routine. He would cook while she worked on the lean-to structure from reeds and rope, and he would occasionally give a word or two of correction. They'd made a reasonably water-proof section for the roof by shrinking the lashed together reeds into a solid sheet by wetting them then leaving them to dry, and then shellacking them with tree sap. It was sticky, hot work. She left the now-waterproof sheet to dry, and he walked over to inspect her work.

He nodded. "The rainy season will be in three months. You'll be happy to have a dry place to sleep."

She felt a sharp pain in her stomach at the thought of being there that long.

He returned to cooking. She grabbed her blanket and walked over to the lake to wash off before dinner. As usual, she kept her underclothes on, and left her outer clothes on the rocks to dry, then wrapped herself in her blanket to preserve her modesty. It was not as hot or dry as Jakku, but she'd protected herself less from the sun, and her limbs had darkened and freckled. The blood stains on her clothes had begun to bleach from drying in the sun after many washes. Ren's clothes had bleached slightly as well, from an inky black that once matched his belt to a very dark gray. He'd taken white bandages and the needle and thread from the medical kit to repair his underclothes, and they peeked out from the tear in his outer garments whenever he he bent just so.

He served them their food, while she undid the knots in her hair and ran her fingers through it to encourage it to dry faster. He stared at her.

"Hm?" she said.

"Have you reflected on our exercise?"

She twisted the hair on the crown of her head into the first knot. "We've had a few. Which one?" she didn't put the energy in to feign ignorance well. He continued to stare at her.

"Whichever comes to mind."

She finished tying her hair out of the way, and shoveled food in her mouth. "I think you were lying," she said, her mouth half-full.

"About what?"

"…'Wanting' me. I think you wanted me to feel like I had control over something, so you could take it back. I think you wanted me to feel what it was like to have some power over you, and then see it slip away. I think sex was just the topic. You could have done it with food, too, like my boss on Jakku."

"That's some fair insight. So was the power you had less real, because I was lying?"

"I don't know."

"Consult your feelings."

She put down her plate and spoon and concentrated, then frowned. The memory played back in her head. Something about him in her memory felt… off, like listening to a familiar tune played back off-key. It was near the tune, but it was not the tune. Her satisfaction in her power, however, rang true.

"No, it was real. I had you."

He put down his plate and knelt in front of her.

"How did I slip out of your fingers? You are right, I have chased you through the woods like a monster. Coerced you into doing what I want. I have enjoyed having power over you."

Her eyes darted back and forth as she replayed their previous interaction.

"You really were uncomfortable I was… flirting." She disliked the word, but there it was.

"Very. And I brought it up again for myself, because it was uncomfortable."

"To make friends with it? To… pound the wound?"

He nodded. "I used my self-knowledge and my knowledge of you, my adversary, to turn my weakness against you and rob you of your satisfaction. Stamp out your weakness, but while it is with you, it is a tool. If your enemy strikes you, let him believe he's struck your right hand and not your left, then destroy him."

"So you were only half-lying."

… And there his pulse was, again, churning little ripples through the Force.

"The lesson is finished."

He rocked back on his heels to stand, but she grabbed his wrist. "Wait. I'm not," she said.

He set his jaw. She pressed down lightly on him with the Force, not strong enough to prevent him from standing, but enough to show her intention to do so if he moved.

"You will let me go, Rey." it was the soft, dulcet tone of a mind-trick. She shrugged it off. Her eyes fluttered as she read the surface of his feelings. She felt a Dark power coil at the base of her spine and crawl upwards toward her heart, its venom seeping into her marrow.

"You… admire me?"

"You're finished, Rey." he said, more firmly.

She cast the blanket off of her. Her undergarment clung to her, and showed the shadow of her breasts and dark nipples. He refused to look down.

"This is what you want, right?" she said. She placed his palm over her breast, and leaned into him. She pressed her forehead against his.

"No," he said. His breathing became labored.

"Why isn't it? I see it, in your head. You want it desperately. You want me to want it."

He pressed his lips together as he resisted her scan, but bits and pieces flickered through like plasma boiling on a star. She teased around the edges of his mind and waited for what she wanted to surface.

"You don't think I can really consent, do you?"

"You're my student. I'm your captor. You detest me."

"You made me call you 'Master.' You've isolated me, at your mercy. I _am_ your student, and you _are_ my Master. While we're on this planet, you think anything that could happen would be you coercing me, or me coercing you. You want an equal. A _consort_. This isn't what you want."

"No. It's not what I want. We have work to do here, Rey. We have a purpose."

"I could ruin it. If I kissed you, you'd surrender to it, and I'd defeat you. I promise we'd enjoy it. Anything you want, I'd obey you, just tell me how to escape from here. I know you have a backup plan. Give it to me."

He jerked his head up, straining under her assault of his mind.

"Would you forgive me if I kissed you?" she said.

"Never."

She leaned forward to whisper something to him—

— and she suddenly flew backward, into the wall of the cliff, and fell onto the rock below. She brought herself up on her elbow and looked up. He stood and drew his lightsaber— his own from his belt, and flicked it on. He held out his off-hand again, and she felt all her muscles stiffen as a bolt of dark energy ripped through her. He pointed the weapon at her.

"Stay down," he bellowed.

She tried to resist, but half of her muscles were locked and all were screaming in pain. She could do nothing but comply.

He held the tip of his blade to her face her eyes flicked between it and him. She gazed up at him defiantly.

"You have made yourself strong with the Dark Side. You will defeat me one day, Padawan. Not today. Kneel."

She rolled over painfully and slowly pulled herself up onto one knee. He moved the blade to her neck and placed his left on her forehead, with his ungloved thumb pressed between her eyebrows.

"I anoint you, Rey, to the Knights of Ren, and as my true Apprentice and successor. I vow wherever I go, you will go. Whenever I fall, you will rise. Repeat it."

"I vow wherever you go, I will go. Whenever you fall, I will rise."

"Rise Rey, Knight of Ren."

She rose. He flicked off the lightsaber, stowed it in his belt. He helped her steady herself, lightly held her upper arms in an almost fatherly gesture. He looked into her face with some concern. She nodded to show she was all right, and he gave her a very thin smile.

"Well done. You've laid the right foundation. I'm proud of you."

She knew in that instant that she had meant her vow to him. She would go anywhere he went, do anything to make him proud again, and felt ashamed she could not hate him enough to kill the ardor of her admiration. She could have killed him for it.

She finally understood.


End file.
